Not Quite Dead Yet
by ChocolateShapeshifter
Summary: When Harvey wakes up somewhere he'd rather not be, it's up to him to put the pieces together and get himself out. Only one problem: everyone thinks he's dead! One-shot.


**Disclaimer: Sadly, I wish I owned Harvey. And everything else. But I don't.**

Harvey groggily opened his one good eye. It felt as if someone had glued the eyelids together with superglue and then stapled them for good measure. Wherever he was, it was pitch black. Whatever he was lying on, it was rather comfortable. No complaints there. He arms were nearly pinned to his sides. By instinct, he tried to sit up and get his bearings, but his head was met by padding, undoubtedly leaving a nasty reddish smear.

"What the hell?" he muttered, reclining once again. He went through his mental checklist: comfy plush padding, no room to move about, and a strange rectangular shape to the whole thing. He was either in a padded cell at Arkham or…he shuddered to think about it. He breathed in deeply, and all he could smell was disinfectant and clean. Which ruled out Arkham. He'd always wondered why they made coffins comfortable. You didn't need it; you were dead. Usually.

From what he had seen on the science channel, once underground, a coffin will buckle and eventually collapse from the weight of the dirt. There was also the problem of asphyxiation. He blindly felt the top of the coffin, and it didn't *feel* like it was collapsing. Which at least meant he was still above ground. He pushed up on the lid, but to his dismay, it was locked from the outside. Ridiculous, really. It wasn't as if a normal body would just walk away. It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic, because it seemed he would have to wait this one out.

But how had he gotten there? He remembered kidnapping Gordon's family and taking them to the recently destroyed building. There was the showdown, the coin toss for Batman, who had lost, and then the toss for himself. He obviously hadn't lost, because he wouldn't have hesitated to put a bullet in his head had chance demanded it. No, he had flipped the coin for Gordon's son, and then…blackness. All he could barely remember from the depths of his memory was a sudden force hitting him. It had happened too fast.

Switching back to the present, Harvey was beginning to get slightly anxious.

"They can't keep me in here forever," he grumbled. With a strange mix of relief and disgust, the thought crept into his mind that they hadn't embalmed him yet. That would be horrible –to be alive while they fix you up. Not that he would have felt it; he had been out cold. He had a sudden image of hitting unforgiving ground and flinched. The sudden processes of remembering wasn't going to be pleasant, it seemed.

He began to hum to take his mind off his current predicament. Then the total disparity of his situation crashed down on his head and he began to panic. What if they didn't think that fixing him up was worth the effort? What if his face was too horrifying to have an open casket funeral? He could easily be left undiscovered and be buried alive! The coffin felt as if it had shrunk a few sizes, leaving him gasping for breath. He knew he needed to calm down, but he just couldn't.

"I probably would have been better off dying from falling off the building," he lamented, then stopped, a strange look on his face. Where had that come from? He clung to the thought like a life preserver. He reworked through what he could remember, from the Joker in the hospital, to hunting down corrupt cops, to threatening Gordon. Finally, a sneer appeared on his face, twisting his lips and stretching the burned half of his face.

It had been Batman. He had somehow survived a point-blank shot to the chest, managed to shove him off the edge, and save the little brat. Without all the super protection that the Batman had, the impact must have knocked him out cold. It was amazing in itself that he was still alive, never mind the fact that nothing seemed to be broken. In the comatose state he had been in, it was no wonder they thought he was dead and shoved him in here.

"They can't get rid of me *that* easily," he growled. He had some unfinished business to attend to, so he had to get out of here without being discovered. But that meant someone had to unlock the damn thing first. He stared at where he pictured the lid to be and practically willed it to open. After what seemed like years, he finally heard the quiet 'snick' of the lock being undone. He instantly went stiff and still and closed his eye.

With his good eye closed, all he could see from his left were blurs, some color, and a little light. With the lid open, the little light he could see seemed harsh after the dark of the coffin. It was a struggle not to flinch. Two shadows leaned over him, and one gasped. His heart began to pump madly, a staccato drumbeat inside his chest. Had they seen the slight rise and fall of his chest, a tiny tic of a pulse in his neck, a minute muscle twitch?

"He's…" a woman's voice began, making Harvey cringe internally, "he's…hideous!" Harvey relaxed, but now he was seething on the inside.

"I bet you're not so good looking yourself," he thought.

"I don't think I can do anything for him," she continued.

"Well, regardless, they still want an open casket funeral," the second person said calmly. A cool had gently touched his burned face, and Harvey flinched slightly –it had hurt.

"Are sure everyone will be fine seeing *this*?" she said pointedly. Apparently, there was a nod he couldn't see. "Okay, fine," she sighed. Before Harvey could even blink, the coffin lid was shut and locked once again. Harvey felt like his anger was going to rip out of his chest, leaving him empty and bleeding. If he could, he would be screaming right now. The best he could do was to gnaw furiously on his bottom lip, a scowl on his face. He only had one more shot –the funeral.

It couldn't be long now, because they had to bury him before he started to decay. It would probably be today, within a few hours. He would escape even if he had to kill everyone in the building. He felt a sudden emptiness in his heart, and paused. It wasn't the Rachel kind of hurt; he knew very well what that felt like. No, it was more like something was missing. He ran through his mental checklist again: he still had his suit; naturally, his gun was missing. He'd have to get a new one. Closing his eye, he imagined a quiet metallic sound. Of course. He was missing his coin.

With his eye closed like that, he felt strangely relaxed. Without meaning to, he fell asleep. The padding was actually quite comfortable, and despite what he had said earlier, he was grateful for it. He didn't dream, not because he couldn't, but because he blatantly refused to. They were horrible nightmares filled with fireballs, explosions, and pain.

He was rudely awoken by the coffin shifting. He was being moved, and the pall bearers weren't exactly being gentle. He had to stop himself from calling out, resorting instead to pushing his heads against the side to hold himself in place. They stopped moving for a second, perhaps to open a door, and the quiet mumble of funeral voices washed over him.

He wondered how many people had shown up. He had been very popular as a D.A., so maybe the place was packed. He moved around as much as he could, just so he wouldn't get antsy when the coffin was open. It would be hard, but the outcome would be worth it. There was another bump, and the mumbles stopped. Then, there was a louder voice, presumably on a microphone.

Harvey thought he could barely recognize the voice of Gordon, the scowl back on his face. He could barely make out anything through the thick coffin walls. Harvey zoned out, but he made sure to stay perfectly still. He just had to make it through the service and everyone staring at him, and then he would be free. Gordon's voice fell silent, followed shortly by the click of the lid opening. He heard the collective shuffle of the people standing, and then more as some filed out and some lined up to catch one last glimpse.

No one stood over him for long, but he could feel their hot breath on his face. A few passerby whispered things, but he paid them no mind. Not until someone stood over him for more than a few seconds. Harvey held his breath, willing them to leave.

"Mommy!" a little boy whispered urgently, "He's breathing!" Harvey's heart jumped up into his throat. He heard a soft chuckle.

"No, baby. Mr. Dent is dead," a woman mumbled, pulling the boy away. The rest of the viewing continued uneventfully. Once all of the voices died down, one last pair of footsteps approached him.

"Goodbye, Harvey," Gordon' voice began, hesitantly, "I'm so sorry it had to end this way…I…forgive you." It took all of his self control not to wrap his hands around Gordon's neck. Gordon turned and walked away. Harvey heard a door open and close, and then he cautiously opened his eye. The room was completely empty. Grasping the sides of the coffin, he pulled himself up and out. He had to lean on the coffin; the fall had left him bruised and sore.

Once he regained his balance, he hobbled to the back of the room and grabbed as many hymnals as he could carry. He dumped them into the now empty coffin, then repeated it twice more. Sure, the funeral home would be wondering where all their hymnals and Bibles had gone, but his coffin would be buried by that time. He reached up and pulled the lid down. This time, the click of the latch didn't fill him with despair. He easily located the key, locked it, and then pocketed the key. Who would suspect that it wasn't him in there?

Pulling his hand out, his fingers brushed against cold metal that wasn't the key. He began to walk towards the back door, pulling the thoughtfully placed coin out of his pocket. He opened the door and leaned on the door frame. The voice of the woman echoed in his mind: "Mr. Dent is dead." It was true. What to do in a world where you didn't exist anymore? He still needed to take care of Gordon, and Batman needed to accept his fate. He was unlimited in his choices. With a smile, Two-Face flipped his coin and strode out, never looking back.

_(AN: I wrote this a while back for my friend, who wanted it for her fanfiction. So it was a fanfic within a fanfiction. It basically stems from my refusal to believe that Harvey died at the end of the Dark Knight. He's alive, don't you try to tell me otherwise :P)_


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